


all my love for the sweetness of his laughter // he is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever

by KaterinaRiley



Series: Soulmates, Soul Words, Soulless, Soul Marked [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Hunk/Shay, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Lance, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Keith finds out that Lance died, Keith is a bit slow on the uptake, Langst, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), POV Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Post-Episode: s02e08 The Blade of Marmora, Post-Episode: s06e01 Omega Shield, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 18:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21103652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaterinaRiley/pseuds/KaterinaRiley
Summary: The story of how Lance survived, then didn't survive, then survived again, living life knowing that his soulmate belonged to someone else. That Keith belonged to someone else.Or so he thought.--“That rivalry was just so you wouldn’t forget me, but—” Lance broke off, looking away, the numbness creeping back into him, choking the anger out in seconds. “But you did anyway. You decided I wasn’t worth your time, and I got that message loud and clear.”





	all my love for the sweetness of his laughter // he is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling really angsty one day and just...typed this shit up. I have other things to be working on <s>fucking hell it's after 4am and I am an Adult with and Adult Job that requires Early Monday Mornings, I should be _asleep_ dammit</s> but this little bugger just latched onto me and wouldn't let go, so....here. Take it.
> 
> I was going to make it smuttier, but then I thought that Lance probably wouldn't be up for it at the current moment because...well, you'll find out
> 
> Title from Jeff Buckley's song _Lover You Should’ve Come Over_
> 
> Slight editing the morning after I published because 4am posts are not the best idea...
> 
> Edited again because for some unknown reason I am a Dumbass and thought I wanted the word to be soul matched instead of soul marked, I am Peak Dumbass
> 
> 12/7/19  
Me: Hm, I'll just reread this so I can get in the momentum of finishing up the third installment.  
Me: ...  
Me, thinking: _ignore it, ignore it, ignore it_  
Me: ...  
Me: FUCK! Fuck, I can't do this anymore!  
Me, furiously editing the parts that make me cringe to high heaven: WHy do I always do this to myself?! Fucking why can't I ever post something and _like_ it the way I posted it?? Why do I fucking hate myself??!
> 
> ...Anyway, so I edited this lil thing. Again. Sorry, not sorry.

____________________

_i dont have friends_

_just enemies and people_

_i dont give a shit about_

____________________

x~xXx~x

Lance had known who his Soulmate was since he'd moved into the Garrison dorm rooms. His family had just told him goodbye, leaving him tearfully, but with a fully stocked and perfectly organized room.

He was twelve.

Right across from his room was a boy, leaning against his own doorframe, staring at the retreating form of some other boy. Had Lance been older, he would've recognized that the boy in front of him was _seething,_ probably angered at whatever the other one had just said to him. Had Lance been older, maybe things would've been different...but Lance wasn't older. He was young and too caught up in the euphoria of being accepted into his dream school that he was completely oblivious to the ire in the boy's eyes and the tenseness in his shoulders.

"Hey, friend," he greeted with a big, bright smile. He waved pleasantly, eager to become friends with the pretty boy that was going to live across the hall from him. "My name is—"

"I don't have friends," the boy spat out, cutting him off and barely giving him a second glance. "Just enemies and people I don't give a shit about."

The words on his left wrist burned so hot so suddenly that he couldn't stop the sharp gasp from escaping his lips, nor the few tears from sliding down his cheeks.

At the sound, the boy turned his eyes to finally look at Lance. Ar the sight of the tears, he scoffed.

"You won't last a week," he predicted, rolling his eyes as he turned to walk down the hallway unaffected.

Unaffected.

He seemed utterly unaffected at the encounter…

…which meant his wrist hadn't burned.

Lance knew about those who's Soulmates weren't reciprocated. They were called the Soul Marked, forever marked, doomed more like, to be matched with souls who would never be theirs to call mate.

Throughout his life, Lance had heard the horror stories about it happening, but he'd never known anyone to actually be Marked.

He never thought _he'd_ be Marked.

Even despite the words on his wrist, he never, not even for one millisecond, thought the person who spoke the words wouldn't have Lance's first words on their own wrist. Even in his worst nightmares, the thought that he would be Marked, not Mated, had never caused him to wake up in the middle of the night, gasping out as an unknown name weighed heavily down on the tip of his tongue.

And yet…

In just a few short seconds, Lance had found his Soulmate and then lost his Soulmate, all before he had a chance to put on his new Garrison uniform.

His dream school turned out to be the cover for a nightmare he'd never known could exists.

The future he'd fantasized about, been so excited about mere seconds before, crumbled to dust before it ever got the chance to truly live.

...Except, Lance wasn't going to be beaten so easily.

He refused, he absolutely _refused_, to be forgotten and dismissed. To be left behind like he meant nothing.

Lance wasn't nothing and he wasn't a quitter.

If he couldn't be that boy's Soulmate, then he'd be that boy's worst enemy.

x~xXx~x

Before Lance could read, he would delicately trace the words on his wrist with wide, awed eyes.

After he could read, he swore to himself he would show his Soulmate that they could have more than that.

They could have someone caring about them, watching over them, loving them.

He would imagine all the ways he'd prove to them that they could trust him, could believe in him, could let him love them.

But now, he imagined all the ways he'd prove to that boy that he was _better,_ he was _smarter,_ he was _worthy_ of being in his life.

He never told his parents any of what had happened.

x~xXx~x

The boy's name was Keith.

Everyone called him the best pilot in his generation.

Lance called him the biggest dumbass of his generation.

Lance called him a Mullet-haired freak.

Lance called him his rival.

Keith never seemed to hear him.

x~xXx~x

When Keith was kicked out, Lance snuck out to the Garrison roof.

He'd learned how to disable the security alarms a few years back. At the time, he'd hoped to find that Keith snuck out here too, that he also needed the break from endless chatter and heavy lectures, but he was never there. No one was ever there.

Tightening the blanket around his shoulders, Lance stared out into the desert, wondering where Keith was in it.

Wondering why he wanted to know.

Keith never looked at him, never gave him the time of day.

They weren't friends. They weren't enemies. They weren't anything.

They were nothing.

And by now, Lance should've gotten over the fact that he wasn't Keith's Soulmate.

It'd been years after all. _Years_. He should've been over it.

But with each beat of his heart, another line would crack into it. Another ache would settle in his bones. Another piece of himself would be lost to the blackhole in his chest.

It was pathetic—_he_ was so pathetic—to be so hung up on another person, even if that other person was his supposed Soulmate. He should know better; his mama taught him better. 

_Why? _he asked himself. _Why am I hurting? Why do I care?_

He asked himself this all night.

He never found the answer.

x~xXx~x

"No, no, no, _I'm _saving Shiro."

"…Who are you?"

His heart finally shattered.

He pretended he didn't care.

"Uh, the name's _Lance_."

x~xXx~x

Allura was beautiful.

Allura wasn't his Soulmate.

Allura couldn't like someone as loud and crass and annoying as Lance.

Allura was safe.

Lance pretended he was head over heels for her.

Keith still didn't even look at him.

x~xXx~x

"What are these words on your wrist?" Coran asked, picking up Pidge's hand gingerly. "What does it mean?"

They'd been to space long enough that Lance was surprised the subject hadn't been brought up by the Alteans sooner.

"Uh," Pidge blushed. "It's my Soul Words."

"Soul…what?"

They'd been lounging around the common area, basking in the rare, uninterrupted day of nothing happening. No one needed Voltron, no one was attacking a planet, no one needed to lift a finger. Greedily, they'd all jumped at the chance to do nothing.

"Do Alteans not have Soulmates?" Hunk asked, gasping.

He glanced down at his wrists, where _Nor are you_, was written delicately on his left. It had been Shay's first words to him. His words had been etched on her wrist.

Allura shook her head, and Hunk and Pidge immediately started trying to explain the concept to her and Coran. Lance stayed quiet, willing himself not to look over to just a few feet beside him, where Keith sat.

Keith.

How fucking _humiliating_.

Here he was stuck in space, fighting an intergalactic war, with the one person who he was destined to be with forever, but who wasn't destined to be him for even a moment.

After everything he did on Earth, he'd still been forgotten. He'd been discarded like the toy nobody wanted to play with. He was useless, nothing, not important.

How the hell was he supposed to move on from Keith when he couldn't even leave this stupid castle? He had the entire universe to choose from, but he could barely get a word in edgewise between battles and ceremonies and more battles. Sure, he was able to flirt with a few of the citizens he and Voltron saved, but it was only a few seconds of time. And, if he was being really honest with himself, his heart was never really into it, never really into them.

He was so pathetic.

At least nobody knew Keith was his Soulmate. Not even Hunk, who turned out to be Lance's roommate all those years ago, and they'd told each other just about everything.

Sometimes, he imagined what would happen if he told Keith…but his mind could never come up with a good ending to scenario. Dying, even in the most tortuous, gruesome way by Zarkon's druid witch herself, would've been less painful then telling Keith the truth.

Somehow, he managed to hide his Soul Words with long sleeves and foundation and lies. No one ever questioned him.

During one of the early nights, when they was just five scared humans with various relationships to one another in a galaxy lightyears away from their own, in an alien spaceship built by an extinct alien species save for the two sleeping somewhere on the castle, they got together to have, what Shiro called, Some Good 'Ol Human Bonding. They'd sat in the middle of the alien living room to talk about earth things and human things and eventually the topic of soulmates had been brought up, surprisingly, by Keith.

"_Do you guys think our Soulmates could be aliens?"_

Immediately, everyone had gasped and giggled and toyed with the idea of being soulmates to an alien. Even Shiro, who Lance knew already had a Soulmate, had smiled at the thought, interjecting with his own musings on what it would be like to have an alien Soulmate. Lance remained quiet, and it was in that moment, as he watched Keith's eyes light up at the prospect of being Mated with an alien, Lance made the choice to lie.

When Shiro had asked him what he thought about being Soulmates with an alien (which now he can think back on the question and laugh because, well, Keith _was_ an alien—half of one) he'd said he wouldn't ever be.

"_Oh, did you find yours already?" _Keith had asked, and, fucking hell, did Lance want to just fling himself out into space at that.

"_No, I can't."_

"_Can't?"_

"_I'm Soulless."_

Everyone had gasped at that, looking horrified...but Hunk's jaw dropped for an entirely different reason. His eyes didn't grow wide with shock, but rather they scrunched up in confusion. Even though Lance had never told Hunk who his Soulmate was, he had shared, during one dark night, that he knew his Soulmate wasn't destined for him. Hunk had never brought the subject up again after they'd spent the night crying and eating ice cream.

And once gain Hunk proved he was truly made of starlight, love, and puppies because he _still_ kept quiet, even as Lance lied through his teeth, boasting, _"Guys, don't be upset. I **like**_ _it. Being Soulless means I'm free. Destined to roam from lover to lover without care or commitment or anything!"_

_"Oh..." _had been Keith's response. 

Did he seem dejected? Was he disappointed that Lance was Soulless? 

Lance refused to look into that too deeply. It would only end in more heartache, as it did every single time he spiraled down the _What If_ path at the Garrison.

No one talked to him about Soulmates after that.

He knew the others still talked about it though; about Soulmates and if theirs were human or alien. He knew they all thought they were being kind by not mentioning the subject in front of him.

He knew there was no way he could convey just how grateful he was for that.

A few times during the first month in space, after Lance had said he was Soulless, Hunk would tentatively allude to the lie, but Lance would always avoid the subject, and after the third time, Hunk dropped it altogether.

Lance had polished Hunk's tools as a thank you, making them shine like the star Hunk was, and Hunk had smiled, silently agreeing to never discuss it again.

x~xXx~x

If Lance's hadn't dug around in files he wasn't supposed to, he would've wondered if Keith and Shiro had been Soulmates, with the way Keith had followed the man everywhere he went, like a puppy would—an angry, I've-got-a-mind-of-my-own-and-don't-you-forget-it puppy.

Except there, in a little footnote, was a name.

Adam.

Shiro had found his Soulmate in a man named Adam.

They'd been twelve years old. Their dorm rooms had been right across from each other. They'd been the best set of partners the Garrison had seen in years.

Lance had surprised himself by _not_ breaking down in ugly sobs when he read that. Of course, he'd been unable to sleep for weeks after; he'd just lied in bed, staring up at his ceiling, completely motionless and utterly numb.

_But_, Lance's treacherous, masochistic mind would remind him, _just like Keith is your Soulmate and you're not his, it could be that Shiro is Keith's Soulmate, but he's not Shiro's_.

He ignored it.

He ignored it like he ignored the empty, dropping feeling in his stomach whenever he and Keith were around each other. Like he ignored the pain in his chest when he heard Keith commenting offhandedly about the attractiveness of this alien or that. Like he ignored the shiver down his spine when he would hear Keith shouting his name in the midst of battle.

There was nothing else he could do.

He couldn't make Keith his enemy, not when they were on the same side of a war now. He couldn't have Keith not giving a shit about him even more than he did at the Garrison—that would be worse in an infinite amount of ways that he doesn't allow himself to think on.

All he knew is that what was going on between them would never change.

x~xXx~x

"I'm Galra. My mother was part of the Blade."

Keith said it straightforwardly; his voice even and his face blank. The only hint that he wasn't actually calm were his hands, shaking and curled into fists, pressed tightly against his thighs. He kept eyeing Allura too, who was standing frozen by Lance's side.

No one spoke. The tension in the room was so palpable, Lance was sure he could've cut a piece of it with a knife. Allura was radiating at least eighty, maybe even ninety, percent of that tension, her own hands curled into fists, pressed tightly against her chest.

"Half," Lance finally mumbled, unable to stand the silence anymore; unable to just allow everyone to look at Keith like he was…was wrong or something worse.

"What?" Keith croaked out, eyes wide.

Now everyone was staring at him. Allura's mouth was dropped in shock.

"You're half Galra," he clarified, averting his eyes. "Though it wouldn't even matter if your dad was Galra too, I guess, 'cause you're still Keith. You'll always be Keith to us, man. You're the Red Paladin, and you're reckless and impulsive and a massive hothead, but—"

Fuck, why did he say _but_? Why was he still talking?

"—but you're also our friend. It doesn't matter who your parents are, Keith. You're part of the team. You'll always be part of the team."

More silence.

Then:

"Yeah!"

Pidge ran up to Keith, jumping into his arms. Hunk followed after, tears flowing down his cheeks.

"We love you, man," he sobbed.

"You'll always be our Keith," Pidge said, her voice muffled by Keith's chest.

Shiro was by his side in an instant, face soft and open.

"I told you," he said.

Even Coran joined in on the hug. Only Allura and Lance stayed behind.

"I…I need time," she admitted, low so that only Lance could hear.

"Take your time," he said. "Just don't lose Keith in the process."

The look she gave him could've meant a million things—it could've meant absolutely nothing. Lance ignored it, his eyes trained on the scene before him.

Keith smiling. _Laughing_. Allowing himself to be held by his friends.

When his eyes locked with Lance's, the air in Lance's lungs evaporated and his stomach dropped to his toes.

He was used to the feeling.

What he wasn't used to was Keith walking over to him, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a hug.

"Thanks," he whispered, breath hot on Lance's ear.

Keith was hugging him. Keith was _hugging_ him.

"N-No problem, mullet," he murmured.

Could Keith feel his beating heart? How erratic, how _loud_ it was? Did he know that his bare neck was pressed against Lance's? That his arms were wrapped around Lance's waist and _squeezing_?

And then it was all over. Keith let go, giving him one final sweet, tender smile, before turning to walk to his room and get some sleep.

This time, when Lance lied in bed and stared up at the ceiling, he didn't feel numb.

He honestly couldn't have felt more alive.

x~xXx~x

____________________

_alright well bye guys_

____________________

Guys.

Plural.

Not _Bye, Lance_ not _I love you, Lance _not even _I hate you, Lance_.

But _guys_.

The last words Keith would ever say to him, etched on his right wrist to mock him for eternity, weren't even _to_ him.

At least, not to only him.

And now that they're in the middle of a war, all of Lance's nightmares featured Keith and the team and blood. Well, when he _could_ sleep that is.

When Keith finally said the words, Lance's throat closed up. It was too soon. They'd finally been going somewhere! Keith even _saw _him; he talked to him and took his advice and _saw _him! They were…they were friends, weren't they? When Lance had gone to him for advice, he hadn't been laughed out the room, hadn't been scoffed at, hadn't been told, _Of course, you're the seventh wheel. Now that Shiro's back, you're done for, ya hear? _Keith had listened to him and reassured him and even smiled at him.

And now he was leaving.

_Bye guys._

Too soon, it was too soon, it was way too soon—

"Fuck—no, Keith, stop!" he blurted out, his feet carrying him forward, arm reaching out, trying to stop Keith from leaving.

He was able to see Keith's face morph into an array of emotions—surprise, confusion, worry—before the doors shut and the pod automatically flew away, towards the Blade's secret base, cutting all contact with them save for emergencies.

(And even when Keith got the chance to ask him about it, eyes shining with something strangely like hope, Lance closed off. He downplayed his actions, even flat out denied them, and the conversation had ended with yelling and an abrupt call cancellation, done by Lance. Why was he such a fucking masochist? He wasn't Keith's soulmate, and no amount of friendship would change that. He couldn't keep letting his walls down.)

"Dude, you good?" Hunk asked, putting what was supposed to be a reassuring hand on Lance's shoulder, but it was too hot, too confining.

"Fine," he choked out.

How could he tell his teammates that Keith just spoke his last words to Lance? That either he or Lance would be dead soon?

He couldn't.

So, he brushed off Hunk's hand, muttered a lame excuse, and pretended everything was fine.

x~xXx~x

A few weeks later, it finally happened.

He died.

It was only for a few seconds, but Lance remembered the pain and the darkness and the cold.

It was _freeing..._and he missed it. Being back in the world where your Soulmate was destined to another was not what he would call, 'a good time.'

He found himself wishing he hadn't ever been brought back. He'd be cleaning up the dishes and suddenly think, _If I were dead, I wouldn't have to do this_. Or after a battle, as they were all cleaning themselves up, he'd look at his cuts, thinking, _If that had been a little deeper, a little more to the left, a little longer, I probably would've bled out_. None of the thoughts scared him; they were almost like a comfort. Like a promise that once the universe was saved, he could do whatever he wanted. _Whatever_ he wanted.

In the quiet of his room, once they'd finally made it back to the castle, exhausted and shaken, but not defeated, he looked at his wrists.

____________________

<strike> _i dont have friends_ </strike>

<strike> _just enemies and people_ </strike>

<strike> _i dont give a shit about_ </strike>

_i dont have tim_ _e_

_for this lance_

<strike> _alright well bye guys_ </strike>

_good night_

____________________

That wasn't any better.

It wasn't necessarily worse, but it wasn't better.

_And maybe_, a small voice told him. _Maybe they belong to someone else_...

But when had the universe ever been on his side?

When he saw Keith again, when he heard those words and felt his wrist burn, when he felt his heart breaking all over again, he didn't cry.

"Hey, everybody, Keith's back!" he announced, keeping up the charade that was crumbling just underneath the surface.

He threw himself into his 'crush' on Allura even more, pretending to be in love her so intensely, sometimes he forgot he actually wasn't. She would never reciprocate, anyway, he knew. Especially not with Lotor around.

Not that he actually trusted Lotor. That part wasn't a ruse, but he'd hoped, oh, he _hoped_, that the disgraced Galra prince's feelings for the planet-less Altean princess were genuine, that it would all turn out right in the end for them.

But again, when had the universe ever been on his side?

Lotor just had to go and betray them all.

And then Allura just had to go and actually show an interest in him!

The _fuck_!?

This hadn't been his plan! Allura, what the hell?!

…Except.

Maybe…

Maybe he could change his plan.

Why wallow in misery when there's someone showing an interest? Someone who doesn't have a Soulmate and won't be taken away from him?

x~xXx~x

They were sitting on one of the garrison beds, enjoying the last few moments of peace before their big battle, when Allura broke the silence.

"Lance, you have words."

Immediately, Lance pulled his arms away.

Allura turned out of his embrace, looking at him in confusion. "I thought you said you didn't have a Soulmate."

He grimaced, but knew he couldn't evade the truth, not when she was looking at him like that. Like she was his commander and he was a soldier and to not obey would be treason.

"…I lied," he admitted quietly.

She frowned. "I never said any of those words to you."

"No," he agreed, but didn't say more.

After a moment of silence, she took his chin in her hands gently forced his head up.

"Look at me, Lance," she ordered.

He looked up at her. Her brows were furrowed in concern; her eyes were soft, but insistent.

"Lance," she started again, softer, as if she were pleading for him to help her understand. Pleading in the way a princess would, so it didn't sound like pleading at all. "You have _two_ sets of words on your—"

"Well, I died," he interrupted, wanting this to be over with quickly. "So, new words took place."

He hoped that would be the last of it, but of course it wasn't.

"But why are you with me?" she pressed. "Lance, I'm not your Soulmate. And didn't Ke—?"

"I'm Marked," he interrupted again. He couldn't hear her say his name; not here, not now. "It means that my Soulmate has a different Soulmate. I'm theirs; they're not mine. So, it doesn't matter what these words say, okay? 'Cause they mean nothing to me. It's just gibberish."

The words meant everything to him, and he knew Allura could tell that. The words meant everything and he didn't want them to, and he knew Allura could tell that too.

Sometimes, he wished he could carve the words out of this wrist, scrape them off his skin and trash it. Start life over, with a different name, on a different planet, in a different life.

But that couldn't happen.

He'd tried to scrape the words off, once, and all he accomplished was being sent to the Garrison nurse and given a lecture on the dangers of suicide.

Hopefully, Allura couldn't tell that part.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her hand placed delicately on his cheek.

"I'm not," he said, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.

They don't speak for the rest of the night.

x~xXx~x

Lance mourned for months when she sacrificed herself.

Everyone gave him space, thinking he was mourning his lover.

They could've been right. Allura could've been Lance's lover. That's what Lance was mourning: the _could've_. He mourned for the person who he _could've_ had a life with, who _could've_ come to love him for more than a rebound, who _could've_ helped him let go of Keith.

But, more importantly, he was mourning his friend, Allura, the most badass princess he had ever known and one of the best leaders the universe had ever seen. She was more to him than a _could've_. She _was _his friend, his teammate, his princess. He loved her like that too—like a friend, teammate, princess.

He covered his wrists religiously now. He couldn't bear to see the words that served as both a reminder to the love he lost to life and the one he lost to death.

No one commented on it.

After all, he was just a Soulless to them.

x~xXx~x

"Thanks for the dinner, Lance!" Hunk boomed, licking his plate clean with enthusiasm.

"Eh," Pidge shrugged. "Not as good as Hunk's last month, but it wasn't bad."

She had eaten three platefuls, so Lance took the light teasing good naturedly.

This was something they'd gotten into the habit of doing; the six of them eating dinner, just them, reminiscing about their times as a part of Voltron. It was a monthly occurrence, not that all of them could meet up every month, especially not Keith, but this time, when it was Lance's turn to cook, everyone, save for Coran, had managed to find the time.

"Well, of course, I can't out cook Hunk," he agreed. "But I do like to try."

"Need help with the dishes?" Shiro offered, standing up with his plate in his hands.

Lance waved the offer away.

"No, no. It's late and you all have to get back to your places. I can clean up."

"But you cooked," Keith protested, and, by now, Lance was nearly immune to the way his eyes were looking at him—softly with furrowed brows. "You shouldn't cook _and_ clean."

"Seriously, it's no big deal," he assured, nothing in his voice giving way to the emptiness of his heart.

"But—"

"Nuh-uh-uh, Hunk, I don't wanna hear it."

He shooed them out the door, waving goodbye as they get into their respected vehicles. Or onto, in Keith case, since he brought his hoverbike.

Lance put on his favorite playlist and got busy. He noticed Keith and Shiro standing in the yard talking for a few extra minutes, but he paid them no mind, and soon, he could see receding taillights. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Lance?"

He screeched.

"_Dios mio_, Keith!" He grabbed at his shirt, over his racing heart. "Don't scare the guy who just feed you!"

"Sorry," he said, and though he did look contrite, there was something else that colored his face too.

"Did you forget something?" Lance asked when Keith remained silent.

"No. Well, kind of, I guess."

Lance cocked an eyebrow. "Well, that's helpful."

Keith sighed and shoved his hands into his jeans. They were his good pair—black and tight and matched perfectly well with his maroon, silk button up.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"…Need help with the dishes?"

It was clearly not what he intended to ask, but Lance amused him anyway.

"I meant what I said earlier, Keith. I got this. Go home."

"But you shouldn't have to," Keith argued and rolled up his sleeves—not that it helped much; they were already folded to his elbow—as he stepped up to the sink and plunged his hands in the soapy water.

He tried not to, he really did, but Lance couldn't stop the sharp, shuttered inhale as Keith's body heat started warming up his side.

Fuck, he was too close. Keith was way too close, and sure, Lance was practically immune to everything by now, but _practically immune_ didn't mean _fully immune_.

And Lance's wrists were bare. They were bare and his hands were out of the water, out of the safety of the dense, soapy, dirty dishwater. There was no way he could move his hands without Keith seeing the words. So, he stayed still, his right hand clutching his shirt while his left clutched the sink's counter.

"Keith," he started to say, but clamped his mouth shut immediately after.

There were so many thoughts in his head and he was afraid of any of them being spoken.

_Why are you here?_

_You look so good._

_What did you want to tell me?_

_Please, please just fucking kiss me._

_Do you know how much I hate you?_

_Do you know how much I **love** you?_

"Lance?" he questioned, but he just as he started turning to face him, he stopped.

His eyes weren't quite looking at Lance...instead, they were looking down at his left wrist.

Suddenly, Keith grabbed Lance's hand and pulled it up, bringing it to his face. Lance easily slipped it out of his grasp, his hand still soapy from when he was actually washing the dishes, but not before Keith looked up, his eyes wide and jaw dropped.

"Your wrist," he gasped. "Lance, you have _words_. You have _my_—"

"It doesn't matter," Lance said quickly.

"It doesn't—?" Keith blinked, and it looked like something in his expression had just shattered. "What do you mean it doesn't matter?!"

"It's fine," he insisted. "Seriously, it's fine, I'm fine. Everything is fine."

"But—!"

"It's okay," Lance said, softer this time. He clutched his wrist to his chest. "I know. It's okay. I'm over it."

Keith mouth dropped again.

He seemed to be trying to find the words to say and it was several seconds before he gritted out, "What do you mean you _know_? What are you over? Lance—"

"God, please don't." Lance took in a shaky breath. "Don't say it aloud, Keith. Please."

"W-_Why_? Lance, you're not Soulless! Your Soul Words are mi—"

"Yes, yes, I _know_," he repeated, and, fuck, he's starting to get hysterical. "Dammit, Keith, I fucking know, okay? I know, but it's fine. It's fine. I accepted it a long time ago."

Keith flung his arms up, looking two parts angry and one part confused. "Accepted _what _a long time ago? Lance, why did you hide this? Why did you tell us that you were Soulless, when you clearly aren't?"

"Fucking hell, Keith, really?" Lance asked. "You really think it's better to tell people that you're Marked, destined to be alone, then to be Soulless?"

"Marked?!" Keith shouted. He looked like he wanted to pull his hair out. Instead, he bared his wrists. "Lance, you're not Soul Marked, what the fuck, we're _So__ulmates_!"

And there, on Keith's wrists, were Lance's words.

____________________

<strike> _hey friend my __name is_ </strike>

_hold on _

<strike>_fuck keith no stop_</strike>

_i love you mi amor_

____________________

Lance's breath faltered as he tried to understand what he was seeing.

"It," he stuttered out, brain going a mile a minute. "It can happen. Someone hating…hating their Soulmate…"

"What?" Keith breathed out, snatching back his wrists to hold them close to his own chest.

"So, it's still okay," Lance finished. "I'm still okay. Don't let me hold you back."

"Hold you back? What are you—Wait." Keith looked at him in horror. "Lance, do you…Do you think I don't want you?"

Lance covered out his pain with a grunted cough. "I mean, you've made that very clear from day one."

Keith frowned. "Day one? I wasn't the one who made up some stupid rivalry!"

"But you're the one who said you don't have friends! You're the one who told me, point blank that all you have are enemies and people you didn't give a shit about!" He shook his head. "Fuck, Keith we were _twelve_! Who the hell says that kind of thing at twelve?"

"T-Twelve?" he repeated; he stumbled back a few steps, eyes wide and jaw dropped.

"That rivalry was just so you wouldn't forget me, but—" Lance broke off, looking away, the numbness creeping back into him, choking the anger out in seconds. "But you did anyway. You decided I wasn't worth your time, and I got that message loud and clear."

"L-Lance, these…_ Both _of these were you?!"

He glanced back. Keith was bearing his wrists again, but this time there was a tremor in his being, something wet in his eyes. Lance looked away before he could watch Keith's meltdown about how he'd been stuck with such a terrible soulmate, not once, but _twice_. He knew it was coming, but he didn't want to see it coming.

"Yeah…" he whispered. "Both were me."

"You…You _died_?!"

Keith's voice was uncharacteristically high pitched as he spoke, his voice breaking at the word. He sounded…Lance didn't want to say devastated, but he did. Keith sounded devastated and a little betrayed too.

Shit, of course. Lance knew why. It was because no one had told him that particular thing he'd missed during his time in the Quantum Abyss. He was their leader, the Black Paladin, so he needed to know when something drastic happened to his team. No one had told him, so he felt betrayed by the team's lack of communication. Dying was a big deal, and Lance was under his command, so naturally he'd be affected by the fact that one of the members of his team died. You can't replace people if you don't know you need to replace them.

"Allura brought me back," Lance muttered, crossing his arms protectively around his middle. "It was only for, like, two seconds anyway. I'm fine."

Silence.

Lance knew Keith was still standing there, but he couldn't turn to face him. He couldn't bear to see Keith's expression as the reality of Lance's words finally crashed into him. As he remembered that Lance was that little boy back on move-in day. That Lance was the one who wasn't worthy Keith's attention then nor now. That he was the one who shouldn't have been brought back to life. He was the one who—

A loud, gut-wrenching sob broke the silence.

Lance whipped his head around in confusion.

There, in the middle of his kitchen, was Keith, pressing one hand to his mouth as he hunched into himself while giant tears fell freely down his cheeks.

"Y-You're crying," Lance said, dumbly. This wasn't supposed to happen. Keith was supposed to be mad, angry, disgusted. Cautiously, Lance took a small step forward. "Keith—"

"I'm sorry," he interrupted, shoulders trembling. "I'm so sorry, Lance, I didn't know…You were right beside me…And I was…You _died_…"

He took in a shuddering breath and Lance stepped closer. Had this been any other person, he wouldn't have hesitated to wrap them in his long arms for a tender embrace, but this wasn't just any other person. Slowly, put his hands on Keith's shoulders. When he didn't jerk away from the touch, Lance took another step and carefully slid his arms around Keith.

Surprisingly, Keith leaned into the embrace. He buried his face in Lance's shoulder and his arms clutched at the fabric on Lance's back.

"It was _you_," he sobbed. "It was _always_ you…and I _fucked_ it up, I…I didn't _know_…"

Lance held him tighter, unsure what to say. Unsure what was even going on.

After a few moments, Keith pulled back, but only enough to move his head and finally face Lance. He eyes were bloodshot and his hair was an absolute mess and there was a little bit of snot around his nose.

Lance had to actively remind himself that this man wasn't his to soothe. He couldn't bring his hand to cup Keith jaw, he couldn't bring his lips to touch Keith's, he couldn't gently wipe away the tears and snot and replace them with laughter and smiles.

Oh, but how he wanted to,,, How he wanted to clear the water from Keith's eyes and smooth out the crumbled look of despair off Keith's face. He wanted to keep Keith in his arms, press him closer and closer, until they were one. He wanted this moment to be so much more than it was.

(Part of him was pleased though. A sick, sick part of him. The part that preened that Keith could feel this way about breaking Lance's heart. Keith had a swarm of admirers throughout all the time Lance had known him; from girls to boys, teachers to parents, and now aliens all across the galaxy. Keith was no stranger to breaking people's hearts, Lance was sure, but knowing that he didn't want to break Lance's…well, if that was as close as he could get to Keith's own heart, so be it.)

"Lance," Keith rasped, clutching at the front of his shirt, his violet eyes never leaving Lance's blue. "I was a troubled kid. An oblivious, troubled kid—asshole really. I was an asshole and I hurt you—" his voice broke at _hurt you_, but he continued on "—and I know my childhood doesn't excuse what I said to you, and I know that I don't deserve to have someone like you as my soulmate, but, Lance, I'm _so sorry_. I fucked up then, and—"

"Keith, what are you talking about?"

Against his better judgement, Lance brought his hand up to do what it so desperately wanted to earlier and cup Keith's jaw. His thumb gently swiped away a few tears.

"You deserve everything the universe has to offer," he said, wishing he could drown in those violet eyes. "You're the best pilot of this generation, you're the Black paladin, and you're the strongest, bravest, most amazing being to ever exist in this universe. _I'm_ the one who doesn't deserve you. I'm just…me. Nobody special. Keith, you deserve someone who can light up the galaxy, just for you. Who can be your friend. Your equal."

That set off a spark in Keith's eyes. Lance had just enough time to smile at the heat that dried Keith's tears before he was being pushed back into the counter, Keith looming over him.

"_No_," he growled. "Fucking hell, Lance, _you're_ the one who deserves everything! You're the one who found Blue, you're the one who kept us together and sane and happy on the castle. You don't even need to use a weapon when you could literally talk your enemy into being your friend. When you smile, I swear that every fucking star dims because you outshine them tenfold! You _are _my equal, Lance. Hell, you're _more than _my equal; you're so much better than me in so many different ways. You are the most incredible, amazing, thoughtful, selfless, _beautiful_ person I've ever met in this stupid universe, and I'll be damned if I let you talk about yourself like you're not!"

There was a pause, where Keith's chest heaved into his, where Lance's eyes stung with unshed tears, where they locked eyes and breathed together…

…and then there was fire.

Keith surged forward, his mouth colliding with Lance's, kissing him as if he were dying and this was the only cure.

Lance whimpered into Keith's mouth, knowing he should pull away, should tell Keith that he wasn't worth this…but Lance was a weak man, and he didn't want this to end. His hand found Keith's jaw again like a magnet; his other slid across Keith's chest, resting over his heart, which was beating just as frantically as his own. Their teeth clanked together as they tried to figure out a rhythm, but it was damn near impossible, when all they were in a cloud of frenzy, of passion.

It wasn't until Lance's knees buckled and he collapsed onto his couch that he even realized Keith had steered them away from the kitchen and into the living room. Quickly, he climbed into Lance's lap, straddling his legs, before leaning forward to kiss him again.

This time, there was a little more rhythm to it. Maybe it was because Lance's brain was finally catching up on what was happening—Keith was _kissing_ him. Maybe it was because they started grinding their hips together—fuck, that felt _so good_. Maybe it was because of the remote that was poking into Lance's back—this was real, this was real, this was _real_.

He didn't want to remove his hands from Keith's body though, so he ignored the discomfort, like he had ignored his feelings for Keith up until this moment.

"You…You like me?" he asked breathlessly as Keith moved to suck a mark on the side of Lance's neck.

He had to be sure. He had to be absolutely positive.

"_Yes_." Keith's voice caressed him like a soft wind in a flower garden. It hit him like falling piano in an outlandish cartoon show. "I like you so much, Lance."

"And you…you _want_…to be my…my Soulmate?" His voice was barely above a whisper, needing to be certain, even though he wasn't sure how much more certain it could get than Keith kissing him, in his lap, and affirming every one of Lance's questions.

"Lance." Keith's hands moved to cup his face, to angle it so he was looking up and locking eyes with him. "Lance, I'm _so fucking glad_ we're Soulmates."

"Fuck." His eyes stung sharply from the tears. "Fuck, I didn't…I didn't think this would ever happen…"

Tears were sliding down Keith's face too, but Lance wasn't sure if they were new or if Keith just hadn't stopped crying.

"It's happening," he assured, leaning back down to kiss him again…and again…and again. "It's happening and it's only going to get better from here, Lance. I promise."

At twelve, Lance had found his soulmate and lost his soulmate in a matter of seconds.

But now, a decade later, his soulmate was sitting in his lap, kissing him and telling him that he was _incredible, amazing, beautiful_, and for once the future looked bright.

"I love you," Lance whispered, choking on the words he'd so desperately wanted to say for years. "Keith, I…I love you so much."

"I love you too," Keith whispered back. He leaned in for another kiss. "I love you so much, Lance. My Soulmate."

Lance whimpered at the sound.

"S-Say that again," he begged, handing tightening on Keith's hips. "Please. Keith, say it again."

"My Soulmate," he repeated, looking at him like he was the sun, moon, stars, and gravity. "Lance, you're my Soulmate. I don't want anyone else, but you. Soulmate."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to ThornQueen, I have the perfect idea for installment number 2! See their comment below!
> 
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> Come say Hi on [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/KaterinaWritely) or on [my Tumblr](https://bluebananabowtie.tumblr.com/) (which I rarely use anymore tbh) or even on [my WattPad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/Katerina_Riley) (which only has original stories). If you would like to give me a coffee, this is my [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/katerinariley0707) 😄✨
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> If you read all of this and you enjoyed it, feel free to comment a ❤️ or a ❗️❗️ or even a 😊 if you liked this but don't know what to say. Thanks a bunches! 😊❗️❗️❤️


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